When I grew up: This isn't a post about graduating.
This isn’t a post about how the past four years of my life, four years that have changed me more than any other set of years I’ve lived before, are over — and now I must move on to something else, something new. (Hopefully that something new is a job I am passionate about, an apartment in a city I love, a group of friends and colleagues who make me happy and thoughtful and kind. But this isn’t a post about that.)
This is a post about how, when asked to stand before an audience of my professors, my peers, and my parents, and to speak with eloquence about the years I spent at Stanford, I did it. I may not have been perfect, I may not have said exactly what I wanted to say, but I rose to the occasion and I did justice to my heart.
I stood up at the front of Memorial Church and looked out at all those people and I spoke:
